My Repast

Fidelity was my crime. I could have stayed away; I would have been safe. Even as I thought that though, I knew the truth. They wanted blood.

For too long, my people, my friends and family, had taken their blood, their lifes, and their souls. It did not matter that some of us were children, babies. In their eyes, we were all incorrigible. Only some wanted our heads. Most of them just wanted our power. However, they are like cows, docile. They were trained very easily to hate us. Now they call out along side their brothers.

My repast came today. I paid for it myself.

The turnkey came, calling out our numbers. He was impassive, not looking at us, just calling the numbers. "Fifteen." I got in line.

The sagacity woman in front of me blessed herself. Prehaps if she became consecrated, God would spare her.

Crowded into a dug cart, we drove to our last standing. We entered the corward and the degradation started. They were exultant as they threw everything they could. An urchin hit my shoulder with a rock. I tried to be magnanimous, for I knew he was too young to understand. At five, he thought this was a game. It was dubious that he would one day relieze it wasn't.

It was the holy woman's turn now. She went willingly, her morose face showing that she knew it was over. There was no God for her. She left this world without trouble and for that I was grateful.

Now it was my turn. I remembered what my mother told me. I held my head gallantly and with pride.